Blurring Reality
by Terrific Lunacy
Summary: Tom Riddle, top student of the prestigious Hogwarts School for Dance. Albus Dumbledore, searching for the hero in his famous end of year performance by holding open auditions. Harry Potter, attending said auditions only to listen to the live music for free. Severus Snape, dance instructor, tolerating nothing but perfection. The line between imagination and reality, a fickle thing.
1. When Technique meets Talent

_**A/N:** Hi there :)! This story hit me suddenly and did not let me go. I needed to get it out of my mind, so here it is.  
>Updates might be excruciatingly slow, my main focus is on my other story. This one has thankfully less plot behind it and practically writes itself. I also plan to keep it relatively short.<br>_

**_Pairings: _**_I plan to make this a Tom Riddle/__Harry Potter story. There might be hints of Severus Snape/Harry Potter...maybe...and you never know with the Malfoys...But really, main focus is TR/HP_

**_Warnings: _**_The rating may go up__, depending how far I take it with the pairing. The story will probably also soon take a turn towards something more darker and distrubing._

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I do not own Harry Potter. All character belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made._

_Enjoy! :)_

_._

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><p><strong><span>When Technique meets Talent<span>**

"Are you completely out of your mind?"

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the prestigious Hogwarts School for Dance, only smiled gently at his grim counterpart.

"How many times have you asked me that over the years, Severus?"

The man sat in front of his desk in the headmaster's office, scowling darkly at him. The expression was feared amongst his students, as it often ended in an excruciating exercise. Because they had known each other for so long now, it had long since lost its effect on Albus, much to Snape's chagrin.

"Too many times to count headmaster. It makes me wonder what exactly it is I'm trying to do here."

"And how many times did my ideas end pleasantly and not in the gruesome massacre you imagined?"

Snape had to keep himself from exploding. The headmaster had no clue just how much work Severus always had to do behind the scenes to make his ideas reality. However, being the man of icy control he was famous for, he sighed instead.

"Look Albus, I always respected your ideas to bring ballet out of the conservative clutches and towards something everyone can enjoy. But you have to do it step by step. You have already made too many controversial decisions for this year's end performance!"

"They aren't that controversial…" protested Albus.

"Performing 'A Prophecy' with nothing but students? The world will laugh at our attempt at such a difficult ballet! A female conductor for the orchestra? The critiques will tear her apart! Open auditions for the lead? That's the equivalent of saying our students aren't good enough to best mediocre hobby-dancers!"

"'A Prophecy' isn't much more difficult than other ballets. Most companies don't do it only because nobody can dance Voldemort's part. You know very well that the only reason I chose 'A Prophecy' was because Tom's technique is so flawless he will make the most difficult part in dance history look easy."

"And I agreed to it," reassured him Snape, "But why open auditions Albus? What good can possibly come out of these? Our school is the best and you worked hard to keep it that way. Our students have been hand selected by hundreds of instructors to finally arrive here. We have more than one senior who can dance the hero's part!"

"Technique-wise yes! But with absolutely no chemistry! There isn't a single student in this school who has understood the hero's part and can incorporate it."

"The end of year performance is the students' big chance to get contracts. Let Draco Malfoy dance the lead and I can guarantee you at least 2 of our students will get hired immediately. You don't have to sweep the audience of their feet, you have to do what's best for their future!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're aiming for acceptable, Severus?"

"I'm aiming for the possible!"

Dumbledore let out a tired sigh. "Look my boy, I promised I would choose one of our students if there was no one in the auditions that we both agreed on. So what's the harm?"

"The school's image will suffer Albus. You know how tough it is to stay at the top, things like these can kill us."

"How about this: We will hold the open auditions in three days- no, hear me out my boy. It will be on such a short notice that the news won't spread much further than London itself. Nobody will have enough time to prepare and the students form the other schools most likely won't take the chance. Besides, it will just be a day, you can take the time to relax from your teachings!"

Snape's displeased frown didn't disappear, but Albus knew him enough to know that he had once again defeated him by sheer determination.

"Fine. Fine! We'll have the bloody auditions. A day of looking at blemished technique, muscles with no control and stiff limbs. Yes, I'll enjoy myself _immensely."_

Despite what everyone said about his heartless and demanding nature, Snape was actually very confident in his senior students. Let the old man have his auditions.

There was no way some random street urchin would dance better than his trained students.

.

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><p>.<p>

"Harry! Haaaarrryyyy!"

"Hm, what?"

Harry stopped moving and looked around himself, suddenly realizing that he was standing on a park bench. Where was he?

"You're doing it again! Dancing with no music, yet completely blocking me out!"

He turned to his best friend who sat on the bench next to him. Right, they had met after work in the park that was closest for both of them. Harry had spaced out again.

"Sorry Ron. I just felt like moving after sitting ten hours behind that bloody counter." He jumped down and sat on the bench.

Ron let out a defeated sigh. "I can't believe I'm surrounded by dancers, maybe I somehow attract them?"

"Sure Ron, it's all your fault," laughed Harry.

"No seriously! Ginny now wants to dance professionally too, after constantly hearing from the twins how happy they are in that damn school. Percy has resigned pretty soon this time, he says at least she's a girl."

That damn school. Hogwarts. One of the top dance academies of the world. Without a doubt the best in Britain. And the most expensive one of course, but having more money didn't secure you a spot as a student.

To get in, you had to be a genetic freak, one in a million, with perfect dancer physique and years of practice. To get a scholarship was practically unheard of.

The Weasleys had done it four times.

They weren't a famous dance family like the Malfoys, in fact, they were dirt poor. Arthur and Molly Weasley were musicians, doomed to remain below the spotlight, but still as passionate about their art as in the beginning.

Their children had grown up in a house that was constantly filled with music. But the kids hadn't taken up any instruments. Instead, they had moved.

Bill was the first of them to get into Hogwarts, free of the murderous tuition fee. Charlie had followed, Percy had resolutely refused to even take one single lesson of dancing despite having the same perfect physique as his brothers, the twins had gotten into Hogwarts last year and Ron…Well…He was just Ron.

If it wasn't for the red hair, one would think he was adopted. His shoulders too broad, his joints too stiff, his ankles too weak… He just didn't have the right genes. But Harry's best friend never cared, for he had never understood the pull dancing and music had on his family. For now he was finishing his education and working a part-time job, a resigned spectator amidst his dance-crazy family.

Still, Harry knew Ron had already spent a good deal of his hard-earned money on dance lessons for his little sister. He loved his family unconditionally, no matter how many times he cursed their unprofitable passion.

As for Harry… Orphaned since he could remember, left at his aunt's doorstep, handed over to the depressing hell they called orphanage, he had ran away when he was 13 and never looked back.

Starved, half frozen to death, dirty and overall in the most pitiable state a human could be, the Weasleys had found him unconscious on the streets. Despite, or maybe because, being poor themselves, they had taken him home and nursed him back to health.

He had never seen so many kind people in one place.

It had also been the first time he had heard classical music. It had made him cry and laugh and despair, leaving him a shivering and sobbing mess on the Weasleys' couch.

And then he had walked in on Charlie while he was dancing in the attic. It had looked as if he was flying, as if he were free, expressing the emotions the music made Harry feel through movement.

He had tried to imitate him. And succeeded.

A natural they called him. Raw, uncultivated talent, hidden away in his small, malnourished body.

Since then, not a day went by without him dancing.

He had managed to get some part-time jobs and rented a room in the most worn-down part of London. Even if he would get a scholarship from Hogwarts, he still wouldn't be able to attend, because the scholarship didn't cover his living expenses, only the tuition fee.

But Harry wasn't sad about that. He just wanted this year to be over. He would be 18 next year, free to get a real job, preferably in some bar where constant music was guaranteed. If he could dance on a few nights to get some extra money, he would be as happy as anyone could be.

"Yo Harry! How is our favourite wasted talent doing today?"

Ron and Harry looked up at the familiar voices. Ron groaned, but Harry grinned broadly at the approaching twins. Their company was always bound to include laughter.

The twins sat down left and right from him, returning his grin.

"Yeah about that wasted…" began one.

"See, we think we can do something about that."

"Ta-daa!" Fred waved a flyer in front of Harry's nose.

Harry took it and read it sceptically. "Open auditions? Come on guys, I told you I don't want to attend Hogwarts."

"Oh but it's not auditions to get into Hogwarts!" clarified George.

"Nah, it's just for a part in our end of year performance," added Fred.

"No strings attached so to say!"

"Yep, you can just come in and dance your cute little ass off…"

"…and make everyone regret they didn't _force _you to become a professional dancer."

Harry laughed at their attempt to look intimidating. "That actually doesn't sound so bad, but I can't. All the rehearsing would interfere too much with my jobs."

The twins exchanged a meaningful look. "Ah but see… We're doing 'A Prophecy'.

Harry stared at them speechless. "' A Prophecy'? _The_ prophecy-…But- that…"

That was impossible. 'A Prophecy' was well-known for being the most difficult ballet piece in history. A school celebrating the graduation of his senior class shouldn't be able to even pull off half of the piece.

Harry had seen it on DVD, actually, he watched it almost once a week. He couldn't describe what it was, but something about the piece just drew him in. No other ballet had ever made so much sense to him.

Especially the Hero. A ridiculous name for a character yes, but Harry understood him. Knew him. Lived him.

The piece was about him finding out about a magical world, hidden from view. About his interactions with his friends, foes, professors and of course, his nemesis.

'A Prophecy' was also famous for the distinct lack of names for his characters, even the leading ones. The hero was simply that 'The Hero'.

With the exception of He-who-shall-not-be-named. Ironically, Lord Voldemort was the only character with a name. And the one that made the piece so infamous.

In one century, there might be one dancer who could pull off Voldemort's choreography. It was said that when the piece first emerged, the dance companies had laughed at it, claiming the part of the villain was simply impossible for a human to dance.

Salazar Slytherin had proven them wrong.

Since then, dance companies all over the world tried desperately to perform 'A Prophecy', for if you succeeded, your name would be equal to eternal glory.

"We thought you'd be interested," smirked George

They saw Harry's lack of reaction and changed tactics. "Look, just come and have fun at the auditions. You can dance on our big stage!"

"And there's live music! A whole orchestra!"

"The teachers don't expect anyone outside of the school to get the part anyways…"

"Especially Snape," specified his brother.

"That slimy git."

"So you're relatively safe not to get the part," explained Fred.

"Relatively," George pointed out.

"There's always the possibility you'll have them on their knees, begging and sobbing…"

"…A natural reaction to your dancing, really."

"But you could still _decline_ of course."

"At least we think so," mused Fred and they exchanged knowing glances again.

"You can never be sure with Malfoy…"

"…He might lock you up…"

"…But let's not think about _that_."

Harry laughed again at their onslaught of arguments. "Okay I get it! Spare me the gruesome details! When is it?"

"In three days. The news just got out."

"We think Dumbledore has finally cracked completely," whispered George conspiratorially.

"But we saw that coming after he announced we'd do 'A Prophecy'."

The twins turned to their brother. "Ron, try guessing what parts we got, even though we aren't seniors yet."

Ron stuck his tongue out at them. While Ron wasn't interested in dancing, he was still bound to get a lot of passive knowledge about the different ballets.

"Oh I don't know… How about two trees?" he taunted.

"Argh, you wound us little brother."

They sprang up and made a show of bowing in front of Harry.

"'Twin 1' and 'Twin 2', at your service," they exclaimed in unison.

"We keep changing between the parts."

"Snape suspects, but he can't prove anything."

"It drives him crazy."

"Anyways…" They sat down again, flanking Harry.

"We_ will _drag you there by force if we have to."

"We know you won't be able to resist once the music starts."

Harry sighed and read the flyer once again, still in disbelief. "And you're really doing 'A Prophecy' with students? Who plays Voldemort?"

"Aaahh…" moaned the twins in unison, their faces locked in a mask of pure agony.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Top student," said George.

"Top asshole," clarified Fred.

"Arrogant, proud, conceited, egoistical, psychopathic…"

"In short," interrupted his brother, "The guy was born for that role."

George imitated a dreamy expression like that of a lovesick teenager. "Look at his technique! His feet! Flawless! Perfect! How graceful! Those turns! Those jumps!"

"One would think he's some kind of reincarnated god."

"_He_ certainly thinks he is."

Ron yawned disinterested. "You guys know it's already ten past one right?"

"Oh fuuuck! Our lunch is over."

"And we have Snape first thing afterwards," groaned Fred.

They hastily packed their things and ran off, but not without turning back one more time.

"See you in three days Harry!"

"Dead or alive!"

"Your choice!"

.

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><p>.<p>

It seemed to Harry as if he had only blinked once before the day of the open auditions already arrived.

He hadn't practiced at all. His various jobs left him no time, his small room no space and his penniless state no chance to change that fact.

But as he walked through Hogwarts' massive main entrance and into a horde of nervous bundles, the anticipation in the air almost choking him, he couldn't help but feel privileged that he didn't want the part. Those that wanted it desperately looked ready to keel over.

The twins arguments had convinced Harry relatively easily. There was no way for him to dance the part – both because Hogwarts wouldn't take an untrained dancer and because Harry didn't have time anyways – but the audition would give him 15 minutes on a real stage, with the perfect surface to dance, live music and dancers that knew what they were doing.

He didn't get the chance to dance with a partner very often. Only sometimes with one of the Weasleys on holidays.

As soon as everyone had registered, they were informed that they would in fact, dance with students from Hogwarts during their audition. They weren't just looking for someone who could dance, they were looking for someone who could play the part and was compatible with the dancers that already had a confirmed part in the piece.

Harry hoped the twins would be there, but of course, depending on what act the judges wanted to see, their characters might not be needed.

"Another Weasley?"

"Seriously?"

"Do you think he didn't get into Hogwarts?"

"How sad…"

"His physique is a bit…"

Harry ignored the hushed whispers around him and went to greet his best friend.

Almost all the contestants had brought family with them. They would be able to watch the different auditions while sitting with them in the auditorium.

Harry was fine on his own, but Ron had insisted he needed to come for 'moral support'.

"Come on, let's get this over with," grumbled Ron and dragged him to a seat in front of the stage.

"You certainly sound grumpy."

"Well, it's this bloody atmosphere in this bloody school. Makes my stomach all knotty. If they're all so nervous and jittery, why are they doing it to themselves in the first place? Gosh, I just don't understand you dancers."

"Hey don't look at me," protested Harry. "I don't get it either. That's why I don't want to be a professional in the first place remember?"

Of course earning enough to live by dancing sounded appealing, but there was too much negative stuff for Harry's liking.

Making it in the dance world was extremely hard, very painful, often lasted only a few years and you constantly had to watch your back for competition. If you made one mistake during an important performance, your career you sacrificed your whole life for was over within seconds.

It wasn't what Harry wanted at all. He just wanted to dance.

There was a general hustling around in the auditorium, dancers trying to calm their nerves, relatives trying to calm them down, people gossiping about famous dancers and musicians from the orchestra getting ready for their first rehearsal.

"That's a big orchestra just for a school performance," remarked Ron.

"It's Hogwarts," he shrugged.

"She's cute."

Harry looked to see who had caught Ron's interest. "Hm? Which one?"

"That bushy haired one over there…"

Harry searched for the girl, who suddenly spun around and glared in their direction.

"I can hear you, you know."

"Wha-… No way!" Ron turned to Harry in disbelief. "She's kidding right? That's way too far away and we weren't that loud."

"Well what can I say, my ears are extraordinary," the girl shot back.

Ron leaned back in his chair sulkily. "Her teeth certainly are."

"I said I can hear you!"

Harry held up his hands in an attempt to calm them down. "Sorry, my friend has a love-hate relationship with musicians."

The girl threw her impressive mane back and stared haughtily at them. "I'm not a musician."

"Oh? What are you doing with the orchestra then?" asked Ron crossly.

The girl gave them one last look, clearly deeming them unworthy of her attention, before turning her back at them. "I'm the conductor."

Ron stared at her speechless and even Harry raised a surprised brow.

Headmaster Dumbledore certainly seemed to be at war with conventions. His end of year performance would prove to be interesting. Maybe the twins could somehow smuggle him in to watch the final performance?

He was pulled out of his musings when the whole auditorium began to clap excitedly.

The judges had appeared on the stage. Albus Dumbledore as the headmaster of course, Severus Snape, renowned critic and dance instructor, Minerva McGonagall, former prima ballerina and now teacher at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy, the embodiment for everything the name Malfoy stood for, as well as some others Harry couldn't name.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at the assembled dancers and spectators. "Welcome! It is my great pleasure to welcome you all to Hogwarts first open auditions! We are all looking very much forward to your performances. Now, a bit information first. You will all draw a lot out of this hat in order of your assigned numbers. The lot will indicate what scene from what act you will dance."

Excited murmurs broke out in the audience. They would dance different parts? How would the judges compare their performances? What if you just had bad luck?

Dumbledore held up his hands to ask for silence. "We do this so our students who already have been assigned a part will be able to start rehearsing. It will also make sure that everyone had the same time to prepare themselves mentally. As a last thing, we hope you realize what a privilege it is to be here. Acclaimed critics will watch our end of year performance and companies may offer contracts to dancers who caught their eyes."

There was even more whispering after that. Everyone wanted a contract. It all but guaranteed a shining future.

"Our senior students have all reached the professional level. We are holding these auditions because we had trouble finding the right dancer for the Hero. But even so, I have to inform you that even if you are the best dancer here, it could still be that we will choose one of our own students in the end."

He paused to let that sink in, and the audience to grow quiet once again.

"Now, without further ado, may number one please step forward? Good luck to all of you."

And so it began.

The contestants were… Well… Harry didn't blame Severus Snape for his scowl.

They were dancers sure, but nowhere near professional. Most of them were mediocre at best. They made a stark contrast to the Hogwarts students who danced with them.

Some of them seemed to genuinely be happy for the opportunity though, a sentiment Harry could identify with.

Dancing was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a tool to express yourself. It should never have to be about being the best. Lamentably, that's exactly how it was at the professional level.

Harry was a bit confused about Hogwarts' reasons to hold open auditions. Yes the hero was a very tricky part emotional-wise. The character evolved clearly during the piece and showed many different sides depending on who he was facing. Since all the other roles were already assigned, they had to search for someone who could get the chemistry right with all of them.

These were things you couldn't achieve with technique alone, but still… Forcing such famous people to watch mediocre dancers seemed like a waste of time.

After several hours and dozens of contestants, Severus Snape clearly was at the end of his patience. It was quite amusing to watch in Harry's opinion.

"_Miss_ Lovegood," the dark man pressed out. "This is an audition for the _male_ lead."

The petite girl with the long blonde hair didn't seem concerned at all. "Oh. Well, it said open auditions so…"

"Ah what's the harm," smiled Dumbledore gently.

Snape turned to him rigidly. "The harm? We are wasting our time Albus!"

"Come now Severus, let her dance. Who knows? Maybe what we were searching for was a heroine all along!"

"You are not actually considering that?"

"Just let her dance. It's only 15 minutes, it won't make a big difference."

Snape's lips were trembling with the effort to restrain himself, but he didn't object anymore.

The girl was good. She was the first one that appeared to be on the same level as the Hogwarts students.

She was also lucky to draw a scene with the twins in it. The two obviously loved the gender-twist and she looked as if she had an awesome time on the stage.

At the end of her audition, the audience broke out into applause. She smiled brightly at all of them and gracefully made her way down the stage.

After her, the differences in the skill of the contestants was even more obvious.

The tension rose. The anticipation and excitement had been high before, but it became palpable now. They had seen scenes with the hero's friends, the godfather, how he first discovered magic, fights with dementors and werewolves and how he travelled back in time, but no one so far had drawn a scene with Voldemort in it.

Harry started to wonder whether that was intentional. Maybe the school wanted to hide this brilliant student away until the big performance?

He had to admit that he was a bit disappointed. Since he wouldn't have the money to go watch the ballet, he had been looking forward to at least see him dance at the auditions.

He wanted to see him for himself, the young man that would step into Salazar Slytherin's shoes.

But the hours went past and no Voldemort scene appeared.

Still, Harry didn't regret coming. The orchestra was brilliant, the Hogwarts student were a joy to watch even though they didn't have time to practice their parts yet and he got to see some of the most famous persons in the dance world.

When they finally called his name, startling Ron out of his slumber, Harry felt completely relaxed.

Since he didn't want the role anyways, he had absolutely no reason to be nervous. He didn't necessarily enjoy other people watching him dance, but he knew after a few seconds he would forget all about them, completely blocking everything out except the music.

He went up to the judges and McGonagall handed him the hat. He stuck his hand into it and grasped one of the paper slips. He gave the hat back, opened the paper and read it.

And paused.

"Mr Potter, please read your designated scene out loud," stated Snape monotonous.

Harry checked his paper again. Twice.

"Act 5," he read slowly. "Scene 11: The possession."

The people in the audience literally snapped to attention.

It was a Voldemort scene. In fact, it was all about the Hero slowly being possessed by Voldemort, becoming him, fighting an agonizing internal conflict.

If Harry had wanted the part, he would have cried in dismay upon reading his lot. The possession was after the final battle in act 7 the most demanding scene for the hero.

But as it was, Harry's heart jumped with delight. It was one of his favourite scenes. It would start out with a bit of fighting with Death Eaters and a small part with the Headmaster before becoming a duet between the two nemeses.

He would dance with Tom Riddle. He couldn't wait.

Harry took his position in the middle of the stage, where already a few Hogwarts students had appeared.

The music began. The students attacked. Harry evaded, dancing like a leaf in the wind, twirling amongst the Death Eaters. Sometimes one managed to grab him, throwing him high up in the air.

They were brilliant dancers. Harry didn't have to worry about anything except his dancing, whenever a position required a Death Eater, one of them was there, ready to assist him.

The music changed to something less dramatic and Harry fled from the fight.

The Death Eaters disappeared and Harry met the Headmaster. They did a bit of synchronized dancing before the music abruptly stopped, leaving the two dancers hanging awkwardly and alert on the stage.

The music slowly picked up. Something dark was coming. An attack out of nothing, the Headmaster jumped in front of Harry to shield him, but the assault flung him away, off stage.

Harry only caught a glimpse of Tom before the dancer was already there, pushing him down violently.

Harry rolled quickly to his feet leaping away from Voldemort. But his nemesis was everywhere, allowing him no escape.

Harry jumped and ducked and leapt, twirled and spun, even attacked him once, but Voldemort was merciless.

Harry could feel his adrenaline kicking in and small drops of sweat began to form on his forehead.

And then Tom - Voldemort? - started circling him, drawing closer, tightening his control. He forced Harry to synchronize with him, setting a hellish pace to keep up.

Normal synchronized dancing was relatively easy, as long as you practiced endlessly with your partner. It was much harder to imitate, to become your partner. It required you to analyse his dancing style, to know the person behind the dancing. This meant it was practically impossible to get it right.

Harry soon realized another problem. Tom's dancing style was the complete opposite of his. His technique was flawless, all his movements executed in perfect control, his feet firmly on the ground. Harry was floating, his body moving in wild, barely controlled, energetic motions.

For an untrained dancer to imitate Hogwarts top student bordered on the impossible. Still, the more Harry concentrated on Voldemort's dancing, the more he lost himself in it.

He didn't know if the change was big enough for the audience to see, but it certainly _felt _as if he was slowly brought down to earth, suddenly aware of the control over his muscles, his body forced to use the proper technique.

He lost himself completely when his mind seemingly let go of the concept that was Harry Potter. The other dancer wasn't a separate person anymore, he was just another part of him.

He barely registered when Voldemort made his final attack, shoving him to the ground. Harry let himself fall…and was caught by his - no, the Hero's - friends.

They gently pulled him to his feet, smiling and laughing, dancing around him. He yearned to stay with them, to remember who he was, but they nudged him back into Voldemort's clutches.

He broke free of the oppressing techniques and let the energy flow back into his movements. He remembered how to breathe again. As he forced Voldemort back with his turns, a smile broke out on his face. He was free.

He did a final jump that brought him right in front of Voldemort and the Hero stared his nemesis fearlessly in the face.

The scene ended.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, breathing hard.

The first thing he noticed was deafening silence. He blinked a few times, realizing that Tom's face was only inches away from his. The student's eyes were slightly unfocused, telling Harry that he as well had been completely entranced by the story.

Harry clumsily took a few steps back. His body felt oddly heavy now that the music was silent.

He glanced down into the audience and searched for Ron.

His best friend was gaping at the stage, but a big grin split his face as soon as he caught Harry's eyes. He gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat.

"Uhm… Err, yes… Thank you, ah, Mr Potter, that was quite… yes. Ahem, thank you."

Harry slightly inclined his head in the judges' direction and made his way off the stage.

He had already turned away when suddenly Tom's hand shot out, clutching his wrist painfully and yanked him back.

"Ouch, what the..!" Harry exclaimed dumbfounded.

Tom stared calmly at the judges who seemed to squirm a bit under his intensity. The student's features were determined and unyielding.

He pulled Harry even closer, his grip tightening even further.

"I want him."

.

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><p>.<p>

_**A/N: **Reviews are much appreciated :). They tell me whether I'm alone with my crazy mind or not...  
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	2. When Offers turn into Orders

**A/N:** _This story is violent. Seriously. After I wrote the first chapter pretty much against my will, I hoped it would back off a bit, but nooo, why would it?_**  
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_I never expected such a huge response from you guys, thank you! :) I also see quite a few diligent Rebuilt-readers amongst you, it's like pulling old friends along (INTO THE ABYSS *muahaha*) ahem, ignore that please._

_A warning that really should have been in the first chapter: I have no knowledge whatsoever about dancing. That puts me in the same boat as most of you (judging from your reviews), I'm just trying to trick you ;P. So anyone that actually has experience with it should probably read this story with closed eyes. Oh wait..._

_Enjoy! :)_

_._

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><p><span><strong>When Offers turn into Orders<strong>

"That was absolutely brilliant mate! You should have seen yourself! You should have seen_ him_ and…everything really!"

Harry blended out Ron's unusually excited babble and glanced back to the stage.

It had taken all of the judges combined effort to convince Tom Riddle to let him go and continue with the auditions. At the end, Dumbledore had to physically peel his fingers gently off of Harry's wrist.

The headmaster had also assured Tom they would talk about the cast when it was time for the call-backs. Harry had deliberately omitted that he had no intention whatsoever to actually dance the part.

There was something very unnerving about the sheer intensity of Tom Riddle. Something that wasn't quite…sane. It had faded, after a few minutes, and Harry had dismissed it as a side effect of immersing himself into Voldemort's character.

Still…The narrowed eyes that continued to stare at him from the stage were quite enough to unsettle him.

Ron had dragged him back to their seats, despite Harry's protests. He had actually wanted nothing more than to go home and curl into ball until his overwhelming emotions had calmed down a bit. He often lost himself in his dancing, but _that_, that had been something else.

Tom's convincing performance hadn't exactly helped the matter.

But Ron had been insistent, claiming that Harry absolutely needed to see Tom Riddle dance for himself. It was rare for Ron to show any kind of interest in something dance-related, so Harry had eventually resigned.

A couple of auditions went by without another Voldemort scene, but one of the last contestants drew the final scene in act 4. The resurrection.

If possible, the audience seemed even more excited, greedy to see a repeat of the previous performance. The boy who had drawn the lot looked anything but happy. This may or may not have had something to do with the very stern looking elderly lady in the first row. The poor boy looked ready to cry.

The dance began and it took Harry several minutes to even notice that there was, in fact, someone else dancing besides Tom. Top student indeed. He had already experienced Tom's dancing and extraordinary technique, but watching him now was something completely different. He had known Tom was good, he just hadn't expected that the dancer would literally absorb everyone's attention. It was mesmerizing.

The other boy that was dancing with him looked exactly how he had when drawing his lot. Unhappy. Forced. As if he were in the wrong place and wondered how he got there.

Even so, once Harry forcefully ignored Tom, the boy was actually quite good. If he had drawn any other scene, he would have made a stunning impression. But he couldn't hold himself against Tom, the student just had too much presence.

"You were so much better," whispered Ron next to him, "You know, not really dancing-wise, just…I don't know, something just clicked. Now it's like the Hero has already lost."

"He's still fighting though," Harry murmured back. "I'd give him points for persistence and dedication. And he_ is_ good."

"Yeah sure, but he's not the Hero."

Despite Ron's claims, there was a huge applause when the audition ended. Though Harry guessed most of them had only eyes for Tom.

The auditions ended soon after that, with a bright smile from Dumbledore and the prospect of call-backs for any contestant that may have caught their eyes.

Harry and Ron hadn't even taken tree steps outside of Hogwarts before two identically excited twins hunted them down.

"Why hello there Mr Hero, so good to see you!"

Harry easily evaded their attempts at hugging him. "Stop it guys, you know I don't want the part."

"Ha! Did you hear that brother? He says he's not doing it," stated Fred in fake shock.

"Oh don't worry, he will if Tom Riddle has any say in the matter."

"Which he does, by the way," Fred whispered conspiratorial to Harry.

"Or Dumbledore, I swear his eyes were twinkling when he looked at you."

"Or Lucius, he's a bit torn over killing or adopting you at the moment, but he'll get over it eventually."

George nodded seriously. "Hell I think even Snape was gaping back there!"

"He will deny it though, but we have seen the naked truth!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at their dramatics. "He was probably watching Tom, not me. My technique is atrocious in comparison."

"Nope, it was most certainly you," they grinned.

"See, they were never able to use Riddle in their previous end of year performances."

"Because all lead roles require a good deal of duets," explained Fred.

"And Riddle can't dance with a partner. Or a group for that matter," continued his brother.

"Because he sucks everyone's attention in like a giant black hole."

They sighed dramatically. "And the result is what we saw in act 4 today."

"A disaster, even though both dancers were very skilled."

"And that is where our Mr Hero comes in," George threw his arm over Harry's shoulder.

"We don't know how you did it."

"Or what exactly it was you did."

"But that was _awesome_!"

They began jumping up and down in excitement, earning strange looks from the surrounding people who swarmed out of the school.

"I've still got goosebumps!" Fred confessed.

"Some dancers backstage looked ready to pass out," mused George dreamily.

"I think some _did_."

George shook his head, grinning at him. "Yeah you're not getting out of this one Harry."

"Bu-…You said I could decline!" protested Harry.

Fred waved his protest away. "That was before you danced with Tom Riddle."

"And before he set his eyes on you."

"Literally."

"I think he's still watching," George whispered loudly while looking wildly around him.

"Ugh stop it, you're creeping me out," interrupted Ron. "I thought he would never let you go, he looked so-…Hey are you alright?"

Ron's eyes had landed on Harry's wrist. Tom had grabbed him so hard that a dark shape of his hand began to form on Harry's pale skin.

"It's nothing. Just a bruise." Harry quickly hid the dark shape under his sleeve.

Ron looked outraged. "That bastard!"

"We couldn't really see from behind the stage, we just thought it was hilarious," frowned the twins.

"He's evil."

"He thinks he owns the world," muttered Fred darkly.

"_And_ the people on it!"

"I'm fine," Harry reassured them. "It may sound crazy but I think he was still Voldemort in that moment."

The twins ominously shook their heads. "You don't understand Harry."

"He_ is_ Voldemort. Always."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Just two days later, Harry was called back to Hogwarts. Since he didn't own a phone, Charlie, also a senior student, had been sent to deliver the message. Apparently everyone at the school had been quite confused as to why he hadn't left a phone number and had cried tears of joy when they learnt that he was friends with the Weasleys. At least that's what Charlie told him.

Harry wanted to send Charlie back with the message that he was honoured Hogwarts was still considering him for the role, but that he had no intention of dancing the part.

Charlie had just laughed and refused to go, because 'he would not be the one to explain _that_ to the judges'.

So Harry once again stood in front of Hogwarts' massive entrance, a distinctive uneasy feeling in his gut. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He had been convinced Hogwarts would just choose one of his own students for the part. Taking an unknown dancer was just too risky for such a prestigious school.

His uneasiness grew when the secretary led him into the big auditorium and it was empty. Call-backs were supposed to include several people, a way for the judges to minimize their options, not eradicate them.

The judges sat once again at one side of the stage and Harry warily approached them. At least Tom Riddle was nowhere to be seen. He didn't fancy another bruise.

"Ah, Mr Potter, Harry… May I call you Harry?" Dumbledore smiled warmly at him.

"Err, sure…sir." Harry had no idea what to call the headmaster. Or any of those people. How did one address a celebrity properly? He had never thought about that. He had never thought he would be in a situation where he would have to think about that.

"Excellent, my boy, excellent. Well then Harry, I believe, ah, Mr Snape has a few questions for you."

Snape shot the headmaster a dark look before turning to Harry. "I have indeed."

"Okay," answered Harry, "Sure, but you should know tha-"

"Where were you trained?" the man interrupted, looking down at a stack of papers.

"Err, nowhere in particular. Bu-"

"Excuse me?"

Harry gave up on telling them he didn't want the part. "I didn't attend any schools, if that's what you mean."

There was a shocked silence as the judges digested this.

"Then where, pray tell, did you learn the steps for 'A Prophecy'?" asked Snape suspiciously.

"I have the DVD," he shrugged.

"But…but, when did you start dancing?" McGonagall asked baffled.

"When I was about 14."

"14?!" exclaimed Lucius Malfoy, "Good god, most start a decade before that and aren't half as good."

He seemed both amazed and outraged at that.

"That is the nature of talent. It makes a joke out of effort and time," sneered Snape.

"So you _do_ think he is talented!" proclaimed Dumbledore, and Harry could tell it was an argument that belonged to another long discussion.

Snape's expression grew sour. "I think," he turned to Harry, "that his technique is atrocious."

"Severus!" chastised McGonagall harshly.

Everyone seemed aghast by Snape's statement, which was sweet really, but Harry could understand where the man was coming from.

"Don't listen to him my boy, he's a perfectionist. No one can meet his expectations," Dumbledore assured him kindly.

"It's fine really, I've been trying to tell you that-"

"Don't make it sound as if his inadequate, excuse me, _non-existent_ training is my fault Albus," scowled Snape.

"We've got months Severus! You can train him."

"He's not a boy Albus, he's 17!"

"With a lot of talent," interjected McGonagall. "Technique isn't everything my dear colleague, a dancer needs to captivate his audience and don't you tell me what we saw wasn't captivating!"

Snape turned to the former ballerina. "Even if I gave him private lessons, in addition to the demanding rehearsals I doubt he could cope with it. Look at him! He's practically all bones and no muscles!"

"General classes are in the morning and rehearsals in the afternoon, if he takes a break you can still train him in the late evening!"

"Uhm, sorry but I-…" Harry tried again

"Oh of course," Snape spat, "I enjoy spending my evenings with completely untrained dancers when there are dozens of our own students who could do it without any extra effort."

"Have you watched his audition Severus? No one dances like that! This is Tom Riddle we are talking about and, forgive me Mr Malfoy, but not even Draco has enough presence yet to hold his ground."

Lucius seemed to consider this. "I don't have any intention to let my son dance a part that will make him look like a fool."

"If we can't get the Hero right then everyone will look like fool Lucius, ourselves included," Snape reminded him gloomily.

They all talked at the same time as the discussion grew more heated, ignoring Harry completely.

Normally he would take no offence in being ignored, after all, why should someone like them even know he existed? But they _had_ called him here, and he sure hoped it wasn't just to waste his time.

He cleared his throat politely to get their attention, but when none of them reacted he realized he had to use more drastic measures.

"Excuse me!" he roared, his voice intensified by the architecture of the auditorium.

Everyone stopped talking abruptly to look at him, only realizing now that he was still there.

"What I was trying to tell you since the beginning, is that I have no intention to participate in your end of year performance. I didn't want the role to begin with. May I go home now? I need to be at work in an hour."

They stared at him in various nuances of confusion. McGonagall's pen clattered unnoticed to the floor.

"Well that just won't do," Dumbledore said after a while, "I already cleared your scholarship with our finance minister!"

"I'm sorry bu-…Wait, what? Why would you give me a scholarship as well?" asked Harry perplexed.

"This is Hogwarts' end of year performance. We need Hogwarts students to dance it."

"You would have enrolled me in your school just so I could dance in your ballet?"

"Of course! Does that mean you're interested now?" Dumbledore asked hopefully.

"No!" objected Harry alarmed. "If I had the time to attend Hogwarts I would have auditioned years ago."

McGonagall perked up curiously. "Time?"

"I have to work. I don't have any money otherwise."

"You do understand the word scholarship?" Snape sneered at him.

"I understand it covers the tuition fee, not my living expenses," Harry shot back, getting more and more exasperated. "Or do you expect me to live on the streets and starve for the rest of the year?"

"Hogwarts does have dorms my boy, and they cost practically nothing," contemplated Dumbledore.

"I don't have _'practically'_ nothing," grumbled Harry, "I have _nothing_ nothing."

"Then this could be your big chance Harry! Even with no previous training, if you dance like you did on your audition then a contract-"

"I don't want to be a professional dancer," Harry said firmly.

It was clearly the wrong thing to say, judging from Snape's expression. "And he has no ambition at all. This is getting ridiculous."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "And there is really no way I could convince you Harry? It may sound like an awful lot of work but trust me, you would be perfect for the part."

Harry forced a polite smile on his lips. After all, it was still an honour that Hogwarts' headmaster would think so highly of him. Even though he was an awful listener. "Look, I love to dance and 'A Prophecy' is my favourite piece, but I genuinely _can't_."

Dumbledore frowned concerned. "Tom will be devastated."

"Just because he has the best technique in the school doesn't mean he owns it," scowled Snape.

"Sometimes I wonder about that…" Dumbledore mused. "Well, if that is your final word Harry, then you are free to go of course. We can hardly force you."

Harry thanked them respectfully and left the auditorium, the resumed discussion still audible through the closed door.

He checked the time and realized he would have to hurry or he would be late for work. Too bad, he had wanted to say hello to the twins since he was already here, but he couldn't risk to lose his job.

5 hours sitting still behind a counter, then a night shift as a cleaner in an office. Yay.

.

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><p>.<p>

When Harry came home the next day, after an extra shift in the café he had squeezed in, he couldn't decide whether he would first collapse from exhaustion or starve.

His stomach was in strong favour of the later, so Harry opted to heat up the leftovers from his last meal. He had just turned on his small stove when someone knocked on his door.

It was a bit strange, because Harry only ever got visits from the Weasley brothers and they usually already called him before he even opened the door. Whoever stood in front of his room now kept silent.

With a frown, Harry opened the door. A torrent of words met him.

"A scholarship, living in the dorms for free, a sum covering your meals and an additional sum equal to however much you're earning right now."

Dressed in casual street clothes, it took Harry a moment to recognise Hogwarts top student.

"Err, hi?" greeted Harry befuddled.

"Tom Riddle," the boy swiftly offered Harry his hand, who shook it confused. "So what's your answer?"

Harry blinked at him a few times, trying to will his exhausted brain to come up with an explanation as to why on earth Hogwarts star pupil stood in front of his room, then proceeded to shut the door in said pupil's face.

Tom was faster, sticking his foot between door and frame. "I've come all the way from the school, the least you could do is offering me tea."

Harry sighed as his stomach gave another loud rumble. "Fine. Tea it is. Don't expect anything else though."

He opened his door to let Tom in. His unexpected visitor confidently strode past him and inspected the room.

There wasn't much to see. The room was bedroom and kitchen all in one, the only door other than the entrance led to a tiny bathroom. The only thing Harry owned besides the most basic furniture was an old TV.

Harry went back to the stove to look after his dinner. "Well, sit then," he offered.

"There is only one chair," Tom pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "I live alone. Not many visitors you understand."

"Ah." Tom gracefully sat down on his old wooden chair, still looking around him, taking in Harry's shabby home.

They remained silent while Harry heated up his dinner and boiled Tom's water.

"So," Harry began awkwardly, setting the finished tea in front of Tom, "How did you find me?"

Tom took a careful sip of the hot brew. "I saw you talking to a redhead at your auditions, so I guessed you knew the Weasleys. I asked the twins."

"And they told you?"

Tom's eyebrows rose curiously. "Why wouldn't they?"

Common decency. But Harry should have known better with the twins. He could just imagine their delighted faces when Tom Riddle asked for the address of Harry Potter. They had probably drawn him a detailed map.

"I did get a call-back from Hogwarts you know," Harry told him, as he sat on his bed and began to eat.

"I heard."

"I told them I didn't want the role."

Tom didn't even bat an eyelash. "I heard."

"Then why are you here?" Harry asked, slightly annoyed.

"Because I don't accept it."

"Ah," said Harry, not really sure what to make of that.

"You refused because of money problems correct? Well I took care of that. Now you don't have any reason to refuse." Tom took another sip of his tea, completely serene.

"What..? Hold on, what do you mean you 'took care of it'?" he asked alarmed.

"The school is willing to cover your tuition, your living expenses and provide you with a place in the dorms for free. At least until the end of the year."

Harry was so stunned he momentarily forgot to eat. "That's a lot of money, why would they offer me all that?"

"Because I told them I won't dance otherwise."

"What?!" he exclaimed shocked. "Are you crazy?! You have the chance to dance Voldemort, you'll be famous instantly!"

"I can't dance Voldemort without a Hero."

"There _will _be a Hero, I heard Hogwarts has more than enough dancers who could do it."

Tom almost seemed to be pouting. "Well it's not the right one. They're boring. If I'm bored while dancing I get distracted, if I get distracted I make mistakes. I have no desire to follow in Grindelwald's footsteps."

Gellert Grindelwald had been the second dancer after Salazar Slytherin to attempt Voldemort's part. The world had counted the days until the opening night, his company was already celebrating him as a star.

But Grindelwald fell during his first performance. It wasn't even at a tricky part, just a relatively simple choreography with the Headmaster. Grindelwald had lost his balance and fell. He fled in shame from the stage and no one had heard of him since. Some even said he committed suicide.

"I saw you dance with another contestant. You were brilliant." Harry wasn't lying, he had never seen someone _move_ like that.

"Brilliant maybe," said Tom offhandedly. "But not perfect."

"You are dancing _Voldemort._ Companies will kill to have you."

"I don't care. I'll be famous if I want to be famous. Right now I want to tell the story of 'A Prophecy' and I can't do that with anyone but you," Tom insisted resolutely.

Harry decided to change his strategy. "Look, I'm not sure what happened at the audition, that's not how I normally-…I don't even know if I can do that again."

"Then I will _make _you."

Something about his statement seemed terribly wrong to Harry. Tom's whole demeanour had suddenly changed, emitting a horribly threatening aura.

Harry gulped involuntarily. "So what, you expect me to give up my life just so you're happy?"

"What life?" asked Tom coldly, throwing the small room a pointed look.

Harry gritted his teeth in fury. How dare he judged him like that! Harry had worked his ass off to be where he was now. "You have no idea-.."

"I do," interrupted Tom calmly. "You didn't think you were the only orphan on this planet, did you?"

Harry forced himself to exhale. "Then I congratulate you for living your dream, but it isn't mine."

Tom stood up from his chair and slowly advanced towards Harry. "You know what I think? I think you're just telling yourself you don't want it because you always knew you wouldn't be able to do it without money. I think you never even tried because you were too afraid to fail. I think you are too scared to try it because you would realize how much you want it."

He came to a stop right in front of where Harry was sitting cross-legged on his bed. "There are some things you can't hide while dancing Harry Potter, and back then your whole body was craving it."

Harry stared up at him, his face a blank mask. Then he calmly took another bite of his meal. "I'm not a little kid you can manipulate with insults and dares."

Their eyes stayed locked for a while, until Tom huffed irritated and straightened.

"Hmm. I was convinced that would work."

"Your tea is finished. Get out," ordered Harry brusquely.

"Fine. I'll just tell everyone I won't dance. The school won't be able to do 'A Prophecy', maybe they won't be able to do an end of year performance at all. Your friends won't be able to dance either. Such a shame, they were the perfect cast for the Twins after all."

"You…you wouldn't…you can't be serious!" stammered Harry.

"And it will be all your fault."

Anger boiled up in him. "You bastard, that's blackmail!"

Tom shrugged unaffected. "Not really. I'm just enforcing your guilt. It only works on certain people with a special kind of conscience. It wouldn't work on me, but you truly are the Hero aren't you?"

His pleased expression didn't waver when he met Harry's icy stare.

"I don't believe you. There's no way you would just let such a big chance slip by." Harry tried to put as much conviction in it as possible, but in truth he couldn't predict Tom's actions at all. There was something strangely erratic about the composed boy.

Tom only smirked indulgently as he opened Harry's door.

"Classes start at 9. Come by when you're ready."

.

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><p>.<p>

_**A/N: **Oh my, Tom is so human it's weird. Can't wait to mold him into Voldemort *evil grin*.  
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_No dancing in this chapter (whaaat..?) I know, so boring. But Harry could hardly just say yes... I hope the next chapters will be more physical (Dancing, I mean dancing, what are you thinking again?)._

_Reviews are still appreciated :-)! Will probably always be, but you know...everything is possible._


	3. When Resistance becomes Resilience

_**A/N:** Good thing I warned you about slow updates eh? Sorry about that! And thank you so so much for all your feedback! :D  
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_._

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><p><strong><span>When Resistance becomes Resilience<span>  
><strong>

Harry looked up at Hogwarts' impressive main building. With its stony facade, its huge wooden entrance door and its towers, it looked more than a castle that belonged somewhere in the countryside, not in the middle of London.

He let out a long, weary sigh. "Why am I here?"

"Because we've been begging you for a week now..?" answered Fred unapologetically.

His twin nodded in agreement. "To the point where you can't sleep?"

"Or eat?" added Fred innocently.

Harry glanced at them annoyed. They sure had been bugging him in every free second. Though it wasn't their fault. It was Tom's.

Hogwarts' top student had refused to dance in their end of year performance. No explanation offered. The prestigious school was panicking, as it was too late to change the production.

Harry had been convinced that Tom was bluffing. The talented dancer clearly had his eyes set on a dazzling career. Finishing his education by playing Voldemort would catapult him into stardom.

But the days passed and Tom made no inclination to dance. Only the twins knew why. So they had naturally taken it upon themselves to get Harry to dance the Hero. Harry had managed to fend them off for over a week. Now they were threatening him to reveal to the headmaster why Tom didn't want to dance.

Tom had already coerced them into sponsoring Harry, so he was convinced the headmaster must have had an idea. But really, thinking that a student would refuse a part in the performance simply because the cast wasn't to their liking was crazy.

However, if the twins would affirm their suspicion, who knew how far the school was willing to go to get Harry on board? He didn't plan to find out.

Besides, no matter how much he tried to deny Tom's words, the boy had been right. Harry did feel guilty for this mess, even though he _knew_ it wasn't his fault. But if he didn't dance, then neither would his friends.

"I'll hate you for this, you know that right?"

"Until the end of time," agreed George.

"And further, once you have your first class with Snape."

Harry took a deep breath, gathering his resolve. "Alright then. Any idea what level I should be in?"

His technique was probably worse than those in the first division, but overall he wouldn't profit from their lessons. He was technically only here to dance in the production, which was predominantly done by the seventh division. But Tom would be in that class and there was no way Harry would go there willingly. He had a feeling they shouldn't be around each other 24/7.

"Age-wise I'd fit in most with the fifth division, right?" he asked the twins.

The divisions represented the different age groups only roughly. The levels reflected how accomplished you were as a dancer, not necessarily how old you were. So the different classes consisted of dancers that were only approximately the same age.

When you tried to get into Hogwarts, they could technically assign you to any division. Though it was easier if you started young and got into the first or second division.

There were always some exceptions that got into Hogwarts when they were older, mostly due to circumstances in their childhood. Not everyone knew he was going to be a ballet dancer at the age of eleven after all. The twins for example had auditioned last year and started directly in the fifth division.

"True, but they only ever cast dancers from sixth upwards. It would be odd if you're below that."

"Yes we wouldn't want to make this any weirder than it already is," grinned George.

Harry shrugged. "Then I'll just come with you into sixth. At least that way I'll know someone."

"Sure you don't want to try seventh?"

"They work almost exclusively on their parts of the performance during classes," Fred explained.

Harry shook his head. "The choreography isn't my problem. I need some basic technique."

The twins grinned at each other. "Basic he says!"

"While talking about the second highest division in Britain's best dancing school!"

"I-I didn't mean-…" stuttered Harry.

Fred waved him off. "Nah, we like your attitude."

George clapped his hands eagerly. "Come on then! Let's bring the happy news."

"News?" Harry frowned.

"Hogwarts will get its end of year performance after all! This might even bring Snape to tears!"

All three laughed at the absurd image.

They entered Hogwarts and the twins led the way to the boy's sixth division's first lesson this morning. It was almost nine o'clock and the students hurried to get to their rooms in time. Because of the haste, few noticed Harry as he changed with them, even though his dancewear was clearly hand-me-downs and didn't even come close to Hogwarts dress code.

They might never see Snape in tears, but Filius Flitwick certainly looked close when he saw who entered his class. "Mr Potter, I am so relieved to see you!"

The man was only as tall as Harry, which made him very short for a professional ballet dancer. Still, his position at Hogwarts was proof enough that he had a successful career in his time.

Flitwick gave him a grateful smile before he turned to the twins, his expression faltering a bit. "Please tell me he's really here and not just one of my wishful hallucinations."

"Our saviour in flesh and blood," they answered simultaneously.

"Excellent! Everyone, start your warm-up, I'll be back in a few minutes. I have to tell Albus at once!"

He quickly left the studio, drawing curious looks from the other students. Once he had disappeared, their curiosity immediately fell on Harry.

The twins had warned him that there were a whole bunch of rumours floating around since his audition. Most of the students had never seen him, as they hadn't bothered to go watch the auditions. There were apparently some pretty messed up stories being spun around his person, but no one really seemed to believe them.

Luckily Harry only had to watch out for the senior students. Since ballet was a fierce competition, students could get jealous easily. However, Hogwarts normally only cast dancers from the seventh division for their end of year performance, rarely some of the sixth but that was it. As everyone had adjusted to that, the lower levels didn't necessarily feel as if Harry had stolen one of their spots.

The seniors who were about to graduate were a completely different story. It was bad enough that Hogwarts had to bring in an unknown boy for the first time ever, even worse that he played the main role. It was a major slap in their faces.

"See? You're a hero already!" exclaimed Fred merrily and they pushed him to a free spot on the barre.

"Why do I feel so miserable about this whole thing?" Harry wondered aloud while he began to imitate the twins' stretching exercises.

"Come on Harry, it's the_ Hero_!" They laughed. "Being miserable is part of his character!"

"Oh that is _so_ not true!" exclaimed Harry offended.

"Yes it is! Bad stuff keeps happening to him," George pointed out.

"Not to mention a psychopath is stalking him since he was a baby," Fred added.

Harry fixed them with an accusing glare. "You two would know a great deal about stalking I reckon."

George stroke a solemn pose, with one hand over his heart. "We're aspiring to be perfect in everything we do."

"We're role models!" Fred assured him.

Flitwick came back in that very moment and was understandably shocked at Fred's last sentence. "Mr Weasly, please don't use my class to spread rumours even the most desperate gossip monger wouldn't believe."

The whole class laughed and the twins' faces were split by two equal grins.

Flitwick clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Now let's get this started boys! First position!"

"Who would have thought?" murmured Fred, who stood right behind Harry at the barre.

"They always start with that, how boring," complained George.

"Someone needs to break these chains!"

"I almost envy you Harry, this is basically the first time you had to endure this torture."

"You spent the last week assuring me how great the school was!" accused Harry, but couldn't hold back his smile. They would have probably said anything to make him agree.

Flitwick mostly made them do repetitive exercises and most of the time they spent at the barre while he walked around and corrected them individually. Since Harry wasn't used to hold certain positions for a prolonged period of time, his muscles soon started to ache. He ignored it, as he was too excited to be in his first real ballet class.

Flitwick corrected his posture quite a few times, but also exclaimed his admiration at Harry's turnout and extensions. All in all, Harry's first morning in Hogwarts went better than expected_._

He hadn't expected to actually learn so many things. Sure he knew his technique wasn't the best, but since he never even considered a dancing career, he hadn't much cared. Now he realized that even with little corrections from a skilled teacher, movements suddenly became possible that he hadn't even known about. Most students trained here to become a professional, but even if Harry didn't want the same thing, the teaching would still enrich his dancing and that felt incredible.

Still, he loved to dance. To move. To spin and jump, lost in the music. All these repetitive exercises Hogwarts made his students do bored him, no matter how useful they were. How anyone could survive several years of this was a mystery to him. But he would only be here for the rest of the school year, a few months. He assumed he could hold on until then. Besides, he was dancing 'A Prophecy'. He would never get that chance again.

By the time lunchbreak arrived he was pleasantly exhausted and chatted eagerly with the twins. They filled him in on all the teachers they had, as this morning had been exclusively Flitwick.

Which teachers you had depended heavily on which division you were in. Although there were some teachers that taught all the levels, most stayed specific for one or two divisions and the higher levels got the best ones. Lucius Malfoy for example only taught from the fifth upwards, while Snape was involved in every level, but most of his time was spent on the seventh division.

It became soon clear that McGonagall had been the twins' favourite teacher by far. But she only taught boy's classes until the fifth division. After that they had male teachers only. They deemed Malfoy too artsy, Flitwick too dramatic and Snape too snape-ish. Apparently he could make every student below fourth level cry with a single look.

Even without having been in one of his classes, Harry believed them on the spot. It also just so happened that Snape was the main instructor for the end of year performance and would be present for almost ever rehearsal, which took place every afternoon. Everyone that wasn't in the production would have normal classes.

"I'm not sure I'll survive this," Harry worried, thinking about all the time Snape would have to make him feel miserable.

"Your death will be on our conscience."

"What conscience?" Fred asked his brother in mock horror.

"Very reassuring, thanks guys," laughed Harry. "Now if you would excuse me, I have to talk to the headmaster. I won't quit my jobs before I have some kind of official promise that I won't starve during the next months."

He had taken a rare free day from his jobs today to be here, but he couldn't bring himself to just quit everything. It would mean he'd get kicked out of his apartment by the end of the month if Hogwarts didn't agree with Tom's demands.

And since he still couldn't quite believe Tom held that much sway over the school, he wouldn't take his word for it.

"Seventh floor, directly by the Gargoyles. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," Harry repeated and waved them goodbye.

While walking up the stairs, he admired the atmosphere that resided in the school. Everywhere you looked, you were engulfed by ballet. Through open doors you caught glimpses of classes or a single student that practiced on his own. Girls prepared their pointe shoes in the hallways, boys massaged their legs, younger kids peered into the classes of the higher divisions, admiring the older students.

Everyone was chatting amiably with each other, yet there was also a certain pressure in the air. These kids had sacrificed a normal adolescence for their dream and every day they were pushed to their limits. The sheer dedication and concentration everyone focused towards dancing was amazing.

He found the two Gargoyles and knocked on the door between them, to talk to the man that coordinated this buzzing dream factory.

Albus Dumbledore smiled brightly at him as he entered. "Ah Harry! Our hero in more ways than one."

"I am truly sorry if I've caused you any trouble," Harry said in earnest.

"Nonsense my boy, you reap what you saw. I decided to hold open auditions and I do not regret it."

"Thank you sir. It's just…Tom Riddle told me a few quite…unbelievable things."

"Ah yes. The boy can be surprisingly impulsive. And convincing." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I'm really sorry about that…I hope you know that I didn't put him up to this."

"Of course not Harry. You made your point perfectly clear in the interview. Don't worry, even before Tom came to us we were already thinking about…alternative ways…to help your situation."

Harry's eyebrows rose in sceptical surprise. "So the school is really willing to pay for…ah, well, everything? It just seems like way too much wasted money for someone like me."

"Nonsense! Although I guess you have the right to know that it isn't exactly the school that will cover your living expenses. Hogwarts will offer you a scholarship, but the rest is…Just think of it as a private sponsor."

Harry stared at him speechless. This was the first time he had heard anything about that and he wasn't sure if he liked it. "Sponsor? Who would sponsor an untrained dancer?"

"Someone who saw you dance and was impressed."

So it had to be someone who was at the auditions. And who had a lot of money. Enough to provide an orphan with a comfortable lifestyle, thinking nothing of it.

"I'm really not comfortable with someone paying for my life," Harry said tentatively, hoping he wouldn't come across as rude.

"Yes I had an inkling. It says much about your character Harry, but you needn't worry. After all we are practically forcing you to participate in our production. Think of it as a job, nothing more."

Harry hesitated some more, not sure what to make of that. "May I know…my sponsor?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "If it will truly make you feel better Harry… It is Lucius Malfoy. The Malfoys have been patrons of the arts for ages, you really don't need to feel strange about it. And it's not like he wants to keep his patronage a secret…He just happens to have a son in this school, and with you youngsters things can get a little heated…"

"Oh. No, I understand. I won't tell anybody, no problem," Harry assured him quickly. "Is there a way I can repay Mr Malfoy..?"

"Dancing for us despite your initial reluctance is more than enough repayment Harry."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. If he had never danced at the audition, the headmaster would have a whole cast of excellent dancers. Instead Hogwarts would have to present him in their famous end of year performance, because of Tom's strange whim.

"Mr Dumbledore, I…I honestly don't know if I can-…"

Dumbledore interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "You will be brilliant my boy, I can feel it."

Harry allowed a shy smile. "Thank you sir. It's an honour to be here."

"Now then!" Dumbledore shuffled around his office before finding something and handing it to Harry. "Here is your key for your room in the dorms. It's the building right next to Hogwarts. I'm afraid we are rather full at the moment, so I can't guarantee a single room."

Harry stuffed the key in his bag. "That's okay. I'm fine with sharing one." Especially since he could live there for free. It seemed like wishful thinking.

"As for rehearsals. I'm assuming you already know they will take place every afternoon, weekends included?"

Harry nodded.

"Good, good. Now we weren't really prepared for your arrival, so we weren't sure whether or not we would actually manage to perform 'A Prophecy'. It's a bit on short notice, so rehearsals for this afternoon are cancelled. We will inform the students that we can go ahead with practice and will start tomorrow."

"Okay. So, I'll have normal classes this afternoon?"

"Not quite. Since we are already behind schedule, Severus agreed to start rehearsing a scene from act 1 in 213. It will only include two other students, so we managed to get a hold of them. Actually you better get going, it will start in ten minutes."

Harry thanked him once more and excused himself.

He walked all the way down to the second floor and searched for room 213. It turned out to be one of the many smaller studios that were mostly used for the students own practice or private lessons.

Like all the other rooms, this one had a huge mirror covering the entire front wall, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the tall mirror that stood in the middle of the room. Another student stood in front of it, looking into it pensively. His eyes locked with him in the mirror and he startled slightly.

"Oh, h-hi!" The student shifted nervously when he saw him, but smiled shyly. "You m-must b-be the Hero! M-my name is Quirinus Quirrell, b-but it's quite a mouthful, so most just c-call me 'Quir'."

"Hi, I'm Harry, nice to meet you Quir."

He peered at the tall mirror. "Soo… That would make you the Two-faced Teacher?"

"O-oh, yes. It will j-just be us and T-tom in this scene."

"Last scene from act 1?" Harry guessed.

"And here I was prepared to re-tell the whole story first, but it appears as if Mr Potter is already well acquainted with it."

The door behind them had opened once more, as Severus Snape entered the room with a sneer. Tom followed just behind him.

"Harry! So glad you could make it," the older boy smirked pleased.

Harry's eyes narrowed annoyed. They both knew Harry had been all but blackmailed into participating, but he still wouldn't have expected him to rub it in so obviously. It was as if Tom was happier about the fact that he was able to force Harry, not that the performance could take place now.

Not knowing how to deal with the top student, Harry ignored him and turned to Snape instead. "I know the story, sir. Though I wouldn't mind listening to your version."

Snape's sneered at him. "Don't worry Mr Potter, my version will be the only thing you know once we're through. And as I am stuck with you, you better give me your best."

"I'll try sir." He meant it. He wasn't here to play Tom's victim, he was here for his friends. And if he was already in it, he'd try to be the best damn Hero the world would ever see.

He also looked forward to kill Tom in the last act. Figuratively of course.

"We all appreciate your efforts," Snape said sarcastically. "Now then, the final scene of act 1. Remember, it is the first time we will actually_ see _Lord Voldemort. It marks the end of the exposition, making it one of the most crucial scenes in the whole play. And you will _not _screw this up."

He was looking directly at Harry as he said the last part. Wow that man really didn't like him. Scary.

"But dancing isn't just about knowing the steps or technique – I saw that eyebrow Mr Potter! What I meant was that it is not enough to go through the motions, no matter how well executed they are. You have to _use_ them to tell the story you want to be told. This requires discipline, diligence and perfect _control_."

He was fixing Harry again with his onyx eyes, and Harry had to hold himself back not to roll his own.

"Despite Mr Potter's _abundan_t knowledge of the plot, I'll talk you through the first round. Step by step. Then you will dance it in the actual tempo, and then we will start correcting your countless mistakes. I trust you all know the basic choreography by now?"

They all nodded.

Snape ushered them into the right starting position. Quir in front of the mirror, Tom behind it, hidden from view for the time being, and Harry further away by the door.

"Now remember Mr Potter, you expected the Potion's Master to be here. You are confused why your other teacher is here, but too naïve to suspect him yet. You are also too reckless to even think of running away."

Harry began to suspect Snape didn't just hate him, he also didn't think much of the Hero. Lovely combination.

Snape started the playback of the music and Harry approached Quir.

Quir played nice at first, his movements slow and unassuming. But his mask began to crumble more and more as he evaded the Hero's inquiries, his dance becoming more hectic and abrupt. He was the Two-faced Teacher after all. The face he showed to the audience until then was not his real one.

Harry could immediately see why they cast Quir for the role. Like all the senior students he was a brilliant dancer, but even more amazing was his ability to change his style completely.

As he slowly revealed his true self, he rapidly switched back and forth between two very different characters, like a flickering candle. Harry made a mental note to ask him for advice later on, it might come in handy for his possession scene.

He couldn't think after that, as Quir started to lose himself completely, and Harry could see glimpses of Tom behind him. Still Lord Voldemort wasn't visible yet, dancing behind the Two-faced Teacher, adapting to his every move like a shadow, yet controlling him at the same time.

"Now the shove Mr Quirrell- Do try to make that fall look convincing Potter."

As Harry picked himself up from the ground, Quir and Tom switched, revealing his true face.

Tom approached him, eyes completely devoid of any mercy, freezing Harry momentarily.

"No! Mr Riddle, Voldemort is cold and ruthless. This boy made him suffer and he'd gladly snap his neck, but it's also nothing more than a schoolboy. You don't want to frighten him, you want him on your side. No one can resist your charms, show him what he could be, what he could have."

Tom frowned a bit, then changed tactics. His threatening aura was gone, instead he pulled Harry with him, gripping him firmly but not violently.

"He's just a little, naïve boy. Lure him, seduce him to your world."

And so Tom did. Controlling his movements, not forceful like on the auditions, but subtle, trying to manipulate him without him noticing. He blocked a jump here, a step there, steering him back to the mirror.

Harry couldn't suppress a smile. This whole situation felt so similar to the one a week ago, when Tom tried to lure him into accepting the role. A weird mixture of promises and threats.

"Something funny Potter? He promises you your parents, it's everything you ever wanted. You know he's a liar but you desperately want to believe him."

Harry went along with it for a while, seemingly following Voldemort's directions, as if distracted by the other dancer. Then he tried to turn away. Tom wouldn't let him, refusing to see him leave, becoming more vicious in his attempts to pull him with him.

As he revealed his true intentions, Harry started to counter his force with his own and the two dancers clashed in a whirl of skilled spins. Harry wanted nothing more than push Tom back a bit, but this was only act 1 and he grudgingly had to allow Tom to dominate.

He could see Tom's eyes flash with wicked mirth as he realized Harry was powerless to do anything, their roles playing out like they were supposed to. Harry clenched his fists in defiance, trying to will himself into submission, but only succeeding partially.

His dancing suffered from his mental distress, his movements becoming less fluid and more reluctant, while Tom practically toyed with him.

Snape's angry clapping interrupted them when Harry refused to take another step back. "Mr Potter the time to fight will come, but now you are young and weak. This is the first time you ever confronted the killer of your parents, you are scared. Act like it!"

So Harry gritted his teeth and stepped back, allowing Tom to push him down.

"My, I could get used to that," the dancer whispered, while they wrestled in a decidedly uncoordinated manner that probably made Snape sick.

"I'll destroy you in act 7," Harry hissed back, trying not to move his lips.

Tom smirked above him. "We shall see."

And then Harry struck back, surprising Tom, as he did so slightly earlier than the music suggested. He was so thrilled to be winning that he almost didn't see Voldemort's last attack coming. As Voldemort fled the scene, Harry's head thumped on the ground, hitting it harder than he had planned. A sharp pain shot through his skull and Harry cursed himself for not paying more attention.

Snape stopped the music, a deep scowl on his face. "I want to see everything from the beginning, no interruptions this time. We start to work on corrections after that and we won't stop working on them until the very second you walk out onto the stage."

Snape held true to his words, keeping them there the whole afternoon with only short drinking pauses. Harry had half expected him to only correct him, but Snape could even find fault in Tom's dancing.

Though he certainly didn't bother hiding his displeasure from Harry. "Hold your head straight, Potter! Stop clenching your fists, lower your shoulder, extend your feet, watch that turnout, stop looking down, don't glare like that, turn faster here…"

And so on. The stream of corrections seemed endless.

Harry tried his best to accommodate all of Snape's demands, but found it almost impossible. When he danced, his head cleared out and he forgot most of the things he was supposed to change. Tom on the other hand integrated everything seamlessly into his dancing, making Harry appear even more incompetent.

By the time Snape finally released them, the pleasant exhaustion from the morning had given way to a mixture of pain and utter fatigue.

When the three students packed their things, Snape loomed over him. "Potter you are in sixth division, yes?

"Yes sir," Harry nodded tiredly.

"Not anymore. I want you two," he pointed to Harry and Tom, "in my seventh grade class. You have to get used to dance with each other."

Harry groaned silently and turned to Tom, who winked at him.

"Oh and Mr Potter," Snape continued, "I want you back in here by eight this evening. We need to do your physical assessment."

"Like a health check?"

"More like a measure of your potential. New students are usually assessed before we even let them audition, but as your case is _special_, we shall do it today."

Snape left the room, followed by Quir who waved him a quick goodbye, saying something about an appointment.

"So, what do you think of Hogwarts?" Tom asked pleasantly once they were alone.

Harry stepped up to him, pointing furiously. "You know damn well that I didn't want the role! Why would you refuse to dance?! They almost had to cancel the whole production!"

"I'm very good at reading people Harry. I knew you'd swoop in like the good little Hero you are."

"Oh? Well what can you read now?!" Harry gestured to his own pissed off expression.

"Is that a trick question?"

Harry let out an annoyed huff. "You know what, whatever. You were right, I couldn't just let my friends down because I auditioned for a role I never wanted. Congratulations Tom, you got what you wanted. Doesn't mean we have to like each other. I'll come to rehearsals, we dance, we part. Simple."

Tom chuckled amused. "Have you _seen_ some of the stuff we'll have to do together? If you don't trust me you'll break your neck."

Unfortunately he was right. It was probably another reason why 'A Prophecy' such a difficult piece. You had to find two principals who trusted each other unconditionally, yet convinced the audience that they were destined arch nemeses intent on killing each other.

"I'll…deal with that when it's time," murmured Harry tensely.

To be honest, he hadn't even thought about that. Dancing with Tom on his audition had just felt so natural that everything seemed possible. He hadn't quite expected for their personalities to clash so much in real life.

He grabbed his things and headed out of the room.

"Do you need help finding your dorms?" Tom asked after him.

"No," he replied curtly.

He stalked through Hogwarts' corridors and realized it was already six o'clock. He had hoped to transfer his things from his apartment to the dorms this evening, but since he needed to be back in two hours already, he decided against it.

He would just search his room and then see if he could find the twins to grab dinner.

He managed to find the building with Hogwarts' dorms just fine, but was soon lost in the long hallways. One would think it wouldn't be that hard to find the right number, but Harry didn't quite get the hang of the system they used.

The building had a strange layout, with two courtyards that shaped the complex like two circles.

Each floor had two rows of rooms where one or two students lived together. On every second floor there was a bigger common room for everyone to use.

It was by pure chance that he found himself in a corner that had similar numbers to the one that was printed on his key, 733.

He finally found his room and was surprised when he saw that the door stood wide open.

He entered hesitantly, not seeing anyone. "Hello? I'm a new student, I'm supposed to sleep here..?"

"28 minutes, really? You realize I could have gotten you here in about 4?"

Harry whirled around.

There, on one of the beds in the corner sat Tom, with a pillow comfortably propped behind his back and a book in his lap.

He smirked up at Harry. "You must be my new roommate."

.

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_**A/N: **I'm still dancing around all these pesky technicalities (It's a pun! Get it? Get it?! Haha! Aah I need to sleep...), but I've actually begun to watch some random domcumentaries about dance schools and companies on youtube. They are surprisingly interesting, I'm kind of addicted now xD.  
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_Reviews keep me happy :). Soo...How about you let your fingers dance across that keyboard that's right in front of you? (See I made another pun! Hahahaa!) Ahem, okay, I'll stop now..._


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